Sharp to the right, and by and by I opened a common on my right--
Wandsworth? Clapham?--Don't ask _me_. I named it Clapham. 'To your
tents, O Clapham!' I shouted as I went: but the warning was
superfluous. As the poet--wasn't it Wordsworth?--remarked on a
famous occasion, Dear God! the very houses seemed asleep. . . .'
"It must have been five or six minutes later that our petrol gave out
and my trusted taxi came gently to a halt in the middle of the
roadway. I climbed out, opened the door and explained. 'Step out,
quick,' said I, 'and make down this street to the left. We must
tangle the track a bit, with this piece of evidence behind us.'
"The Lady Petunia considerately took Farrell's arm. 'Why, he can
walk!' she announced. 'I'm all ri'!' Farrell assured her. 'You may
be yet,' she answered, 'if you keep your head shut.' Farrell asked
me if I considered that a ladylike expression. To this she retorted
that she couldn't bear for anyone to speak crossly to her: it broke
her heart.
"'Capital!' said I. 'Voices a tone lower, please--but keep it up,
and you're husband and wife, returning from an evening at the
theatre.
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